not,” John assured the courtier. “The riding party won’t be able to travel nearly as quickly as my horse. Once I’ve applied the hare’s tongue to her injury, the princess and I will double back and meet up with her maid. If we must encamp on the road, she’ll have a proper attendant.”
“Your Majesty,” Eliab simpered, “who will be in charge of the castle while you’re away?”
Only respect for his father and the trust he’d placed in the courtiers kept John from uttering a prickly retort. But even the trust of his late father wouldn’t earn either man a custodial role in his absence. “Prince Luke is more than capable of overseeing matters while I’m away. With your prayers for my safe passage, I should be back by sundown tomorrow.”
“And if you’re not, what then?” Eliab pressed. “Shall we send a regiment to look for you?”
“No.” John gave them a hard look and made sure Luke heard him clearly. “If I am delayed beyond next evening, it may be a sign of trouble with the Illyrians. Dispatching soldiers would be the worst possible response. I’ll have my falcon. If Fledge returns without me, then you may be concerned. Whatever happens, you must trust Luke’s judgment. He is a prudent and capable leader.”
Luke gave him a firm smile in return for his compliment. “God be with you, brother.”
John met his brother’s eyes and was glad to see that Luke understood. They hadn’t asked for this, but it wasn’t a challenge they could walk away from. As rulers of Lydia, they had an obligation to protect their people—as their father had done—and to die protecting their people, if the situation called for it. Despite the political entanglements, this mission was no more difficult than others they had undertaken in the past. But there was a great deal more riding on the outcome.
Chapter Two
Gisela leaned on Hilda and tried to catch her breath. Really, standing upright should not require such exertion.
Nor should thinking.
But the blearying effects of the throbbing wound above her right eye made her head swim as though their ship hadn’t escaped the Saracens at all. If they’d been sunk in the Mediterranean, surely even then her thoughts would not swim so. The constant roar of the sea echoed through her head as though she held a great seashell to her ears to listen.
But there was no seashell, only these unending waves of fever that gripped her with their relentless thrashing.
She could hear the rattle and clank of gear and smell the scent of a horse over the brine of the sea, which lapped gently at the wharf beneath them. At least King John had been sensible enough to accept her plan. There really wasn’t any way around it. If she’d had use of her eyes and known what she was looking for, she’d have gone after the hare’s tongue herself.
“Your Highness, the ride will be difficult.” That was King John’s voice, much nearer to her now. If she reached out, she could touch him.
She remained still. “I’m quite sure the alternative is worse.” She wished she could open her eyes and look at the man, but even her left eye, though uninjured, was swollen shut by the spreading infection. Every time she’d tried to raise the lid, she’d felt such a horrific spasm of pain that she’d stopped trying.
“I thought I should extend a word of caution. I’ll do my best to make the trip a smooth one, but we’ll be riding over uneven ground—”
“Your attention should be on the terrain, not on me.” She quieted his apologies. “And I expect you’ll need to be looking for this hare’s tongue. Don’t let my presence distract you, King John.”
“We should be going then, Your Highness. The sun reverses its course for no one, not even kings and emperors’ daughters.” His voice betrayed a melancholy sadness. Gisela couldn’t help wondering what had caused it. At the very least, she hoped he didn’t terribly mind the inconvenience she’d caused him—or if he did mind, he could blame the Saracens, since they’d started the trouble.
For her own part, though her injury concerned her, Gisela felt a mixture of dread and relief that her trip to Illyria had been interrupted. Thrilled as she’d been to get out from under her father’s overprotective hand to see the world, she hadn’t been particularly looking forward to being tied down by marriage, least of all to an Illyrian prince. Like a diver holding his breath for just a few minutes before coming up for air, Gisela felt the pressures of her impending marriage and the loss of freedom that would accompany it. This was an opportunity, however brief, for her to gasp a breath before going down again.
Her marriage was politically necessary and couldn’t be avoided. All too soon, she’d become the bride of a prince she’d met only twice before. She didn’t welcome her injury any more than she’d welcomed the Saracens’ attack on their ship. But she couldn’t be unhappy for the excuse it gave her to extend her freedom, if only by another day or two. Perhaps she could see a bit of Lydia—assuming she survived and retained her vision. She’d heard of the tiny Christian kingdom and always been curious about the place.
Rather than allow herself to be consumed by worry, she tried to find the good in the midst of her dire situation. King John was willing to help her and did not seem to be overly upset about being suddenly burdened. And they’d be leaving Hilda’s anxious fawning behind.
That alone would be worth the rigors of the journey.
“Are there any preparations you need to make before we leave? Do you have everything you need?” King John sounded as though he was ready to be off.
“I’ll need my sword.”
“Oh, my lady, no,” Hilda protested.
“We brought it with us from the ship.” Gisela turned back as though she might fetch it herself. “I never ride without it.”
“You should have no need of a sword.” King John’s voice sounded close, indicating he was nearby. “I’ll have mine.” A protective note sounded through his words.
“You mentioned possible trouble with the Illyrians. I won’t allow myself to knowingly enter a potentially dangerous situation without the means of protecting myself.”
“You can’t even see, Your Highness,” King John protested.
“Then stay back from me if I have to use it, Your Majesty.”
Thankfully, Boden spoke up in her defense. “She is quite skilled with the sword, King John. She saved our ship. Had she stayed below, as instructed, the Saracens would have taken us. As it was, she surprised them and tipped the battle back in our favor.”
As he spoke, Gisela felt the familiar weight of her sword belt pressed into her hands. She quickly linked the scabbard around her waist. “I’m ready. Shall we depart, Your Majesty?” Not only was she eager to begin the journey, but she feared she wouldn’t be able to stand upright much longer, and she didn’t want to do anything that might give away how very weak she felt. King John might realize she wasn’t up to the journey after all. He might change his mind.
She couldn’t risk that.
With a fair amount of shuffling and no shortage of exclamations from Hilda, Gisela was lifted onto the horse. She found they’d situated her in front of King John, who wrapped his arms around her to
